Leaving The Streets
by Frankie McStein
Summary: Bodie's PoV on events leading up to his joing CI5. Compainion to Signing On


Disclaimer- All right, all right, if I really have to say this again I will. I suppose. But I want you all to know it's under severe protest. I resent the fact that I have to admit to the world (well the readers anyway) that I don't own this. Is it really such a huge crime to indulge in a fantasy of ownership?  
Oh. Yeah. Ok. So... it's not mine, it never has been and it will never will be. But imagination is a powerful thing and for the duration of this story, I'm imaging that the characters in this story are mine. I promise to return them as soon as I'm finished and although any girlfriends who surface may suffer, any damage incurred to the characters we care about will be reversible.  
  
Leaving The Streets  
  
I was never too sure of what I was going to do with my. Didn't believe in all that finding a direction' stuff. I believed in me, nothing else. I never really felt like I needed anything else. I left home as soon as I was old enough to look out for myself and I've been looking out for myself ever since. I could never bring myself to trust any one else to watch my back. It was a distrust that manifested itself in a variety of ways. The most noticeable of which was when I was in a mercenary training camp. The training was partnered and single and although I did well in both, I was never able to work with a partner for long.  
  
It came as no surprise when I was given solo jobs. That was the only way I worked, solo. Once I left the mercs and joined the outgoing troops to Angola, I thought that it may chance. In the bush, the harshness of the life decreases in direct relation with the number of people you are with who are willing to help you. I didn't figure on being to comfortable, and I wasn't, but I managed and that's more than I can say for some of the others. But I soon got tired of lobbing grenades in to the bush and I took the first opportunity I had to leave.  
  
The business I got involved in back in Britain was dubious to say the least, but my contacts were good and I never let down a client. Once in a while I would find my self getting close to the law, but I hadn't ignored the lessons life had given me and I always found it easy to drop out of sight for a while. Then, when the heat let up, I'd get out of hiding and start back up with my business again, whatever my business at the time was.  
  
How I came to be dealing with Anderson I'll never know. I'm willing to swear it was through Marty, but each time I bring it up, he claims innocence. Either way, dealing with him landed me where I hadn't been before, jail. Not an experience I'd willingly repeat, not, except for one thing. The friend that I made there.  
  
Raymond Doyle. The first time I saw him he was wearing a scowl that would have frightened a wild bear away. So naturally when he came in to question me, I called him sunshine. His response proved quite shocking. He didn't even look puzzled, just glared at me for a second and then burst out laughing. The questioning session didn't last all that long and neither did my time inside. That next morning I released, without even a slapped wrist. I'm pretty sure that Doyle had something to do with it and I made a point of looking for him for the next few days. I never saw him and I was quickly distracted by other matters.  
  
But I was surprised to find that I wasn't totally out of the spotlight. Just a few days after my release one of my friends warned me that he had spotted someone keeping an eye on me and that by the look of them they were professionals. I watched my back after that and was careful to stay away from the jobs that I thought were to big.  
  
It was a while before any thing else of interest happened to me, maybe just less than a year. Then I got a call from a Major George Cowley telling me about a new organisation that he was creating. By some means or another, he had been keeping an eye on me and for some reason he had decided that I could be the kind of person he needed to make his squad work. I was immediately put in mind of Doyle and thought about how well he was doing in the Met. I've never had to high an opinion of cops, but if Doyle was anything to go by, working in the law didn't seem all that bad.  
  
My first interview was for early the next morning, although I was given a choice as to whether I showed up or not, it was pretty apparent that this Major Cowley was fully expecting me to put in an appearance. So I went along. The security guard was a joke, probably more to keep up appearances then to keep any body out. But the man I saw leaving as I was going in made me pause. He looked incredibly familiar and I couldn't place him. For a man who prides himself on his memory, it was annoying, but, as I reached the third floor where Cowley's office was located I quickly forgot it.  
  
The session was basically just me giving him an in-depth look at my life and him asking a few questions. After about 20, maybe 30 minutes, I was given a few files to look over and told that someone would be in touch within a few days and that was that. The security guard didn't even look up as I walked past him and I almost laughed at the thought of these man being the only line of defence against some sort of take-over. Then again, if the rumours I'd been hearing were anything to go by, no-one would be stupid enough to try and take-over this building.  
  
I read the files that night and was impressed by the speed in which the agents moved once they were given the go ahead but quickly figured it was nothing that I couldn't do as well. The next day I was woken up by a phone call from Cowley telling my that, in light of my training I would only have to go through the final testing before I was placed on the active duty list and that I should go to his office again today if I was going to take the post.  
  
I didn't take me long to get there and when I got to his office I found the door was open and a drink was waiting for me on the table, along side another. A drink for my new partner apparently. The door opened before I had time to tell Cowley I didn't work with partners and another man stepped in. I recognised it was the same man I had seen leaving earlier that day and it was then I remembered where I had seen him before.   
  
Ray Doyle. Oh God. Not only was I supposed to have a partner, but I was supposed to be partners with a guy who got me out of jail sentence. I was to shocked to say anything when Cowley gave us a chance to object. I think I hid it quite well but Doyle looked totally unruffled. Maybe he didn't mind the idea. I already knew I could trust him. Maybe, just this once, I could take a chance on partner. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all.


End file.
